


Kitchen Confidential

by elzed



Category: Castle
Genre: F/M, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 20:02:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elzed/pseuds/elzed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers to 2.09 "Love Me Dead"; modifying canon slightly.<br/>Castle and Beckett finally resolve that UST...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kitchen Confidential

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saikogrrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saikogrrl/gifts).



Rick Castle isn't the kind to eavesdrop on his daughter's phonecalls, but some snatches of conversation are too compelling to ignore, even if he's supposed to be working on his next novel.

"Yeah, I want to, I just… I don't know…" Alexis is saying on the phone as she walks down the stairs, but it's the next sentence that has him on alert and heading for the kitchen before he's quite processed what he wants to do.

"I can't tell him, he'll freak. He _will_."

If Rick had any doubt about whether she was talking about him, his daughter's guilty look as she hangs up and the way she turns to the fridge to avoid looking at him while she answers his question dispels them, even before she pleads schoolwork to escape.

Ryan's call summoning him to a crime scene fails to dispel his angst, and he spends the whole drive there replaying the conversation in his head. None of the scenarios he comes up with are anything but disturbing.

Whatever happened to being the cool dad?

***************************

_"Rook, you bastard," she moaned as he teased her, poised over her. She was beautiful and wanton, laid out under him like a picture of debauchery, her eyes liquid with desire, her mouth swollen with kisses._

_"That's what you love about me," he said, smiling, and dipped his head to her enticing breast, intent on making her beg for every crumb of pleasure._

Flushed and aroused despite herself, Kate swears at the ceiling and takes a deep breath before continuing to read. Castle's arrogance is breathtaking. And against her better judgment, it works, because no matter what, she finds herself drawn to those couple of pages again and again. The strong suspicion – let's face it, the knowledge – that he's written this… _porn_ with her in mind adds to the thrill.

So she slips her hand between her legs and caresses the edge of her panties, imagining Castle's face above her own, his eyes boring into hers with that slightly smug look of his, and feels herself grow wetter at the thought… Oh, God, she's got the hots for him, there's no denying it; and she can just imagine the face he'd make if he ever found out. She cringes, but doesn't stop the motion of her hand, pulling the material aside to reach the sensitive flesh below.

She closes her eyes, and he's there, his mouth on her nipple, hands stroking down her body as she works her fingers into the slick welcoming wetness, imagining that they're his, and lets out a long sigh of pleasure. She bets he's good in bed, attentive to his partner's pleasure – if the sex scenes in his novels are any indication – and proud enough that he'd want to make her come before him.

She imagines him trailing kisses down her breasts, her stomach, pausing before he reaches the apex of her thighs, teasing her slowly to arousal with his tongue as she pants, his name threatening to spill on her lips. Oh, _Castle_…

Then her phone rings. Ryan is apologetic, but a dead body falling out of the sky definitely counts as an emergency.

Duty calls. And Castle is bound to meet her at the scene. _Great_.

She spends the rest of the evening in a state of heightened arousal and irritation, and every time she looks at Castle, she thinks of sex. It's intolerable.

******************************

The call from Castle's daughter takes Kate completely by surprise, pleasantly so. She's liked the girl from the first time she met her, and the mutual love and admiration Alexis shares with Castle is heartwarming to watch. Kate's touched to be picked as a confidante, and readily agrees to meet; Castle's reaction is just the icing on the cake.

She arrives at the coffee shop five minutes early, and Alexis is already sitting in one of the deep couches, her head bowed over a book, her mane of incandescent hair swept up in a very grown-up bun. Everything about her is designed to project responsible adult – the gray tailored jacket and black slacks, the understated earrings, even her sober-yet-clearly-expensive handbag; but it only serves to underline the delicate youthfulness of her features. Not for the first time, Kate marvels at Castle's ability to sire a child so utterly unlike him, with her pale blue-green eyes and porcelain skin – not to mention a patience and maturity that he sorely lacks.

Undeniably though, Alexis has inherited the family charm. Within a few minutes of arriving, she's settled Kate in a cozy armchair and brought a large cappuccino with extra whipped cream that Kate probably wouldn't have ordered left to her own devices, but which hits the spot. Blissfully so.

"So what's Dad like to work with, Detective Beckett?" Alexis asks.

"He's really not that bad," Kate says. "And he has some good ideas. But don't tell him I said that or I'll never hear the end of it."

Alexis laughs.

"Don't worry, I know Dad. But he comes back from work sometimes so fired up… It's nice to know he's not making it up all along."

"Yes. I can see how you'd wonder."

"You know, when he first started working with you, Gram was convinced he'd drop out as soon as he had enough material. She told me she couldn't imagine him actually coping with day to day police work."

"Well, he's not exactly drowning in paperwork," Kate says, grimacing. "Unlike the rest of us. But I will admit that he's proved something of a natural at the detective business."

"Do you actually work like Nikki Heat and Jameson Rook?

_Oh God_. Somehow Kate didn't expect Alexis to _read_ her dad's books. Her guilty mind flashes immediately to the scene she's been reading in the privacy of her own bedroom, and cringes inwardly at the thought of Alexis – sweet, virginal Alexis – going through those pages.

With an immense effort of will, she manages not to let the tide of embarrassment show, and shrugs noncommittally.

"Not exactly, no…"

"I mean, apart from the romance," Alexis says, and stops abruptly, eyes wide. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to suggest…"

"No, it's okay…It's just that – well, apart from that, obviously, your dad, er… likes to embellish some stuff. But the procedural aspects are pretty accurate." And the sexual tension between them, too, but she's barely able to admit that to herself and would die rather than reveal it to his daughter.

Opposite her, the daughter's swiftly turning crimson, thus confirming that she has, indeed, read page 105. And probably page 106, too. Kate wants to sink into the ground, but has to pretend to be cool about it. Sometime this responsible adult stuff stinks.

"So, apart from discussing your dad's talent – was there anything else you wanted to ask me about? You weren't very specific on the phone."

"Oh, well, I… well, you know," Alexis stutters. "You can't tell my dad about this. _Please_."

"I won't, I promise," Kate says, knowing full well she'll regret it bitterly if she's right about what's about to come out. But there is such a thing as a girls' code of honor, and she likes Alexis, and has no intention of breaching her trust.

"You know, there's things I can't really talk about to my dad… and my mom, well, you've heard about her, right? And Gram's great, but I just…"

"Well, you know police officers are kind of the great confessors of the world's sins – not that I'm suggesting you have sins to confess, but… let's say it gives us perspective. Granted, it's a pretty skewed perspective a lot of the time…"

Alexis smiles nervously, takes a deep breath.

"Okay. I guess you've figured out this is about a boy."

Kate nods.

"His name's Nicholas, and he's a senior, and we've been kind of dating for a couple of months. I haven't told Dad about him. Or Gram. Or anyone apart from you, really."

"Why not?"

"Well, he's very private, and neither of us want to make a big deal of it at school, and his parents are really messed up, so we've been keeping it under the radar, but it's not, you know, because there's anything wrong. He's great and we have a wonderful time together… and I think I'm completely in love with him," she ends in a rush.

"He sounds lovely," Kate volunteers, hoping for a little more information.

"Oh, he is!" Alexis exclaims. "He's a really talented musician, and he's applying to Juilliard next year to study cello…"

The list of Nicholas' accomplishments is exhaustive, Kate discovers, and not limited to music or indeed the arts. He's also a math buff, and apparently, a real dreamboat. Alexis is clearly head over heels.

"So why aren't you telling your dad? I thought the two of you could talk about almost anything…"

"_Almost_… It's just… I have these _feelings_ for Nick, and it's the first time a boy's made me feel like that, and…" By now Alexis is staring at her mug fixedly, her cheeks aflame. "I can't talk to dad about this! It's… well, for him, I'm still his little girl, and this – this doesn't make me feel like a little girl. At all."

Kate leans in and lays a hand on the girl's shoulder, gently.

"Oh, sweetie, don't worry. Even cool dads aren't always the best at this stuff. Do you _want_ to tell him about it?

"I think so. But I'm not sure. And I don't know where to start…"

"Maybe you'll find it easier to work out if you run through it with me."

By the time she heads back home, Kate's in a quandary. On the one hand, it's clear young Alexis isn't about to jump into bed with her boyfriend, and Kate's advice about protection and contraception was received with a flurry of denial. On the other, she remembers all too well how susceptible teenage hormones are to the excitement of young love, and, well, just because Alexis Castle is a late starter to the making-out scene doesn't mean she won't be a fast learner. After all, Kate was.

Castle is going to be all over her the next day, which is both endearing and slightly worrying, because she can't shake the feeling that she's betraying him by keeping his sixteen-year-old daughter's confidence.

 

******************************

Maybe Alexis relayed her paperwork comment to her dad (although Kate doubts any of that conversation made it back to Castle's ears), because it's pushing midnight and he's still with her, sorting files as she types up her arrest notes. The precinct is quiet, most people have long gone home, and they work together in companionable silence.

It's been a weird case, this one, where the protagonists turned out to be the exact opposite of what they started as, and the twists have left her a little shaken (Jack Buckley, one of the bad guys? It beggars belief). But she's still annoyed at Castle's spectacular lack of judgment about Scarlett, even if he picked up the slack later. Annoyed and possibly a little jealous, although she knows that's entirely irrational.

"I didn't think you were the kind to get taken in by the 'innocent girl done wrong' routine, Castle," she says conversationally as she skims through her notes to check she hasn't forgotten anything. "Somehow I got the impression you were this man of the world, with a degree of street sense. Must have got the wrong guy."

"What can I say? I'm a bit of a sucker for damsels in distress."

"If we're going down the cliché road, how about the whore with the heart of gold?

"Ouch, Beckett, will you stop twisting that knife? Among other things, it offends the writer in me."

"Oh, sure. Was it the _writer_ in you that fell for the prim legal intern by day, wanton call girl by night?"

She twists around to face Castle, and is it her or is there a sheepish look on his face?

"Can I help it if I am the perfect gentleman?"

"Oh, be honest. You checked your common sense at the door when she turned up, and she almost got away with it."

Kate knows she's running off at the mouth with this but she's wanted to rub Castle's face in it for a while. Not least after it emerged that the girl had been lying about Buckley, and yet continued to portray herself as the victim in the whole story.

"I thought you weren't planning to crow about this until tomorrow?"

"It _is_ tomorrow," she says tartly, and that sets him off on a different track.

"Hang on, Beckett. Am I sensing some sort of… displaced anger here?"

"What?"

"Is this about…? You wouldn't be… _jealous_, would you?"

She scoffs.

"In your dreams, Castle."

But there's no denying that his voice can sound awfully sexy when he wants it to, and there's something about his arrogance that turns her on, against her better judgment.

"You can't deny that there is something here, between us, Beckett."

"No."

"Oh, come on", he teases, with that supremely irritating smile of his that nonetheless makes her want to get her hands all over him.

Something must snap in her brain at that point, because Kate can't quite believe what she says next.

"No. You're right. I can't deny it."

Maybe it's the late hour, or the thrill of the successful chase as they closed a difficult case, or perhaps it's just that months of constantly repressing the urge are taking their toll. Because it's not just her – there's mutual attraction here, enough to keep her awake at night and to fuel more fantasies than she will admit to; enough to make her heartbeat speed up when they spend time in close quarters; enough to make her want more.

It will probably turn out to be a terrible mistake, but she's fed up with depriving herself. Kate is exceptionally good at every form of self-control, but she's beginning to realize that it's not as fulfilling as it used to be. Perhaps it's time to move on from self-denial, and to let Rick Castle introduce a little hedonism into her life.

If, that is, he ever wipes off the look of surprise on his face and actually does something about it.

She leans into him and winks conspiratorially.

"What's the matter? You talk the talk but can't quite walk the walk?"

"Oh, is that how you want to play it?" he says, and her grabs her arm and pulls her closer, until they're nose to nose. She's trying not to cross her eyes, nervous laughter stuck in her throat; but really she's thrumming with anticipation, waiting for him to make a move.

Which, in typical Castle fashion, he doesn't.

If this standoff lasts much longer, she's might start giggling in his face; but she's damned if she's going to follow _his_ scenario. Who the hell does he think he is? It's real life, not the plot of one of his damn books.

"This isn't a game, Castle," she says, trying to sound stern.

"Maybe it should be, then," he says, and he kisses her, a brief brush of his lips against hers, but she's so wound up that if feels like an electric shock, and she starts.

"Tense much?" he says, so close she can almost feel him grinning against her skin, and then he kisses her again, properly this time, a long, hot, toe-curling kiss that sets parts of her alight with unbridled desire.

"Do you know how long I've been waiting for this?" he says, hoarse, when they pull apart for a breather.

Kate shakes her head.

"Should I?'

The second kiss is a more hands-on affair, from both of them – Kate kneading his shoulders as she responds eagerly to him; Castle's hands surprisingly gentle on the back of her head. They're pressed against each other, intimate enough that she can feel his erection growing against her thigh, fuelling the fire in her belly.

"You know, Castle, I don't think this is the best place for any of this," she says when they next come up for air. Part of her is aghast at the thought that she's actually suggesting they go somewhere else for more, but she's always prided herself on being the sensible one, and as far as she knows Castle is likely to suggest they get busy on Captain Montgomery's couch, which must be avoided at all costs.

Sex, on the other hand, sounds like a fabulous idea.

"Is this the 'your place or mine' moment?"

He licks his way down her neck before she can answer, and bites the corner of her jaw lightly.

"Oh, God, Castle," she sighs. "Is it even worth asking?"

"Not unless you want my mother and daughter in the picture, no, and frankly, I wouldn't recommend it," he says before nipping her earlobe. "Also, this is the point where you might want to start calling me Rick."

Kate can't remember much about the drive home except that she's desperately trying to focus on the traffic ahead and not on the turn that their relationship has just taken. She suspects he feels the same, because they barely exchange a word when they meet again in front of her apartment building, and spend the ride up the elevator kissing some more. Somehow she can't get enough of his kisses.

If she didn't know better, she'd blame the kissing for cutting the oxygen to her brain – by the time they stagger out of the elevator and through her front door, she's lightheaded and consumed with lust. They're like a pair of teenagers, pulling off each other's clothes in the entrance hall and knocking a couple of books off her bookcases as they struggle down the corridor to her bedroom.

By the time they reach it, Kate's been stripped very efficiently to her bra and panties, while Castle – she can't think of him quite as Rick – is shirtless and showing a pretty decent set of abs for a sedentary New York writer, something she informs him of in a spirit of sharing.

"And your rack's not bad either, Detective," he says, pulling down a bra cup to latch onto an erect nipple.

They fall onto her bed in a tangle of limbs and busy hands. Castle's obviously skilled at this, she notes, disposing of her underwear with a minimum of fuss and paying attention to all the erogenous zones he encounters on the way. He's also not quite as sophisticated, and much more enthusiastic, than either of his literary alter egos, which Kate thoroughly approves of.

He also gives great head, which she discovers when he makes her come after bringing her to the brink three times, and even then only when she grabs a fistful of his hair and pleads with him to finish her off. His tongue, God, and his fingers, working in tandem, are driving her insane, and she cries out when he finally lets her climax, clamping her knees around his ears.

Castle looks a little dazed after that, but not in a bad way. She returns the favor once she's recovered from her emotions, kneeling in front of him at the foot of the bed as he looks on in wonder. She relishes the feel of his cock in her mouth, the way he twitches when she takes him deeper, the hitch in his breath when she hollows out her cheeks and sucks.

"Jesus, Kate, please…" he says in a strangled voice, followed by a moan when she releases him. "You've got to stop, or else…"

"You got protection?" she interrupts, hoping he does because she's pretty sure there isn't a condom in the house, and is both gratified and slightly disappointed when he does, because really, does he have to be so predictable?

The disappointment doesn't last, though, because they're a good fit with each other, and it turns out Castle fucks just the way she likes it, long and slow and _deep_, making her clench at every stroke. They find a rhythm and she feels another orgasm building inside, like a coiled spring twisting upon itself, until she shatters around him, coming in waves of pleasure that threaten to knock her out, it's so good.

They lie side by side afterwards, spent and boneless, and she surprises herself by allowing Castle to wrap his arms around her and hold her close, even though he's sweaty, and she's hot, and she's not usually one for cuddles. Apparently, today she is, to the extent that she lets herself fall asleep against him.

When he leaves in the gray dawn, whispering something about getting changed at home, she misses his warm presence.

 

********************************

It's six thirty am by the time Rick turns his key into the lock, and he estimates he's got about twenty minutes to get changed and freshen up before Alexis gets out of bed. He absolutely does not want to talk to her about what just happened. Not that he's ashamed of his behavior, but this Beckett thing feels potentially serious, and he's not going to force it down Alexis' throat until he's clear about where it's going.

"Hey dad," a chirpy voice calls out as he's taking his shoes off before climbing the stairs, "have I just caught you doing the walk of shame?"

Alexis is looking especially perky this morning as she emerges from the kitchen, eyes bright and mischievous in the early light. She's still in pajamas, a carton of half and half in one hand, a half-eaten bagel in the other.

"You're up early, sweetheart."

"I wanted to talk to you. Actually, I was expecting to talk to you last night about something, but you apparently had other plans."

"Well, actually… about that…"

He hesitates. There's all these questions he wants to ask her, about that talk she had with Beckett, about the things she felt she couldn't tell him about; but maybe he should just make the first move.

"I've got something to tell you, too."

"Well come in the kitchen, I'm making coffee," his daughter says with a smile, and Rick feels a wave of love wash over him at the sight of her.

He has no right to be this lucky.


End file.
